"No."
I said it again.
"That's not something to be ashamed of."
Ieyasu looked up, puzzled.
I pointed at the painting. At Ieyasu's face, brow furrowed, about to cry.
"That's the face of a man who survived."
"Do you remember?"
I sat down right there. Right next to Ieyasu. The cold seeped up from the chilled floor.
"Back when we were hostages. You and I, shaking together night after night. We never knew when we'd be killed, and our teeth chattered under the bedding."
Something flickered in Ieyasu's eyes.
"Back then I asked you, 'Are you scared of dying too?'"
"...Yeah. I remember."
Ieyasu's voice went, just a little, back to a boy's.
"You nodded, looking like you were about to cry. And then the two of us swore, didn't we? 'Muscle never betrays you.' Since we were scared, we'd at least get strong."
"After that, we trained like madmen. Even when we were starving, even if it meant gnawing on taro, we never stopped. We believed that if we got strong, we wouldn't be scared anymore."
"Listen, Ieyasu."
I put a hand on his shoulder. Me, who hated touching people so much. With his shoulder, my hand just reached out on its own.
"It's fine to be a coward."
I said it slowly. One word at a time, as if setting each one down in his chest.
"It's fine to look pathetic. You can shake, you can run, you can cry on your horse. Because, listen. As long as you survive, even by running away. That's when it really begins."
A tear spilled from Ieyasu's eye. It fell, plip, onto his knee.
"Only the ones who survive, however wretchedly, get to stand in the next battle. Once you're dead, that's the end. You can't leave anything behind. You can't even regret. You ran and you survived, and that was the right thing to do."
"That painting is the face of you apologizing to your men. The face of you swearing you won't let them die next time. Where else would you find a lord who'd have a face like that painted? I don't think you're wretched. Not one bit."
I said that and smiled.
"That painting isn't a picture of a disgrace. It's a picture of a win—'I made it home alive.' You can be proud of the coward in you."
Then I clapped my hands and called for my retainers.
What I had them carry in from the storehouse—was my treasure.
Every gun I had. Hundreds of Tanegashima matchlocks, piled up before Ieyasu. Black barrels carried in one after another after another. My collection for saving my own skin, bought up as if they mattered more than my life. The thing that let me breathe easier just looking at it, the prop my heart leaned on.
"Take them. They're all yours."
Ieyasu's eyes went round. Of course they did. He knew how dearly I treasured these barrels.
"Lord Oda, these are your..."
"It's fine. If you can use these to shoot the enemy from far away. If you never have to shake on your horse that close to them again. It's cheap at the price."
To me, guns were the treasure that came second only to my life. And I didn't think twice about giving that treasure away.
As long as he survived. That was enough.
Ieyasu was speechless for a while.
Then he bowed his head, deeply, deeply.
"Lord Oda."
His voice was shaking.
"I—I'll follow you for the rest of my life."
At the time, I didn't know yet.
How much those words would save me, later on.